Saturday, April 01, 2006

Lord Where's the Bottom....

Life sucks sometimes.
There's no doubt about it. But over the years, I have become a little better at rolling with the punches. It seems I was born with 'the good gene'. That's the one that makes you want to believe the best about people, the one that blinds you to folks' hidden agendas and innate deceptiveness. This past month, I've struggled hard NOT to feel like a victim. It was rough y'all. I thank the higher powers that be who watch over Pollyannas like me; those powers that listen to our pitiful prayers and go after the maggots who want to turn us into garbage for the feast. I thank those powers for true friends; the few out there who still recognize we are here to 'do no harm and love/support one another.' Saying all of that, I was in need of my writer's group down in Savannah. The ladies of Zona Rosa ( get it on every first Saturday of the month down in Savannah. The group is led by a "wonderwoman" named Rosemary Daniell, a very wise woman and one helluva writer. I make the two and a half hour drive without complaint because being there feeds my soul as well as the writer's muse within me. Well here I am. Zona Rosa is today. I've missed being there the past two months and dam if it isn't raining. I DON'T TEMPT FATE BY DRIVIN IN THE RAIN!!!!!!!! Shit. Me being me, I'm looking now for hidden meanings, the lesson of it all. Am I supposed to conquer fear and have faith? Am I supposed to seek strength from within? What to do what to do? This one thing I do know....SHIT ON THE RAIN....the wet stuff and all the rain brought into my life lately. I'm hittin' the road. Wish me safe travels!


At 6:05 AM , Blogger Stephen Bess said...

I hope that your travels were pleasant and safe over the weekend. I miss ol' Savannah. The cruise down Victory Dr. and a walk on Tybee.

At 7:09 AM , Blogger barbie said...

Were it not for Zona Rosa, I would never venture into Savannah and I do not understand everyone's fascintion with the place. It gives me the creeps. I guess the ghosts of too many dead slaves roaming around. There was once a major slave auction there. The place reminds me of a tired whore past her prime!


Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home